


With The Wild Wolves Around You

by allyasavedtheday



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Cuddling & Snuggling, First Kiss, Hale House Fire, Hurt/Comfort, I'm so sorry oh my god, M/M, Sharing a Bed, and lydia as always knowing everything about relationships, and papa stilinski being wonderful as is my headcanon, and scott and stiles' fabulous friendship, this contains feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-26
Updated: 2013-05-26
Packaged: 2017-12-13 01:53:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/818583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allyasavedtheday/pseuds/allyasavedtheday
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek is trapped in the Hale house when it's set on fire for the second time. This is the story of how everything falls apart and is inevitably put back together again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	With The Wild Wolves Around You

**Author's Note:**

> This is set in the summer between season 2 and season 3 and I suppose, not really canon compliant considering we don't know what happens yet :P
> 
> Fic title comes from the song The Wolves by Bon Iver :)

 

 

_"Why should I be dismayed, though flame had burned the whole world_

_As it were a coal,_

_Now I have seen it weighed against a soul?"_

                                                            - W.B Yeats

*

It's July.

It's a Tuesday.

And everything's normal until it's not.

Stiles is sitting on the floor with Scott, their backs against the couch, locked in an immense battle of COD. It's that point in summer where it's so hot that, no matter what you do, you feel sticky and gross and you need to keep a gallon of water next to you to stop your mouth going dry.

Things have been quiet lately. In fact, there hasn't been a peep out of anyone since the night Jackson finally turned and became an actual werewolf. (He takes off a week later, only saying his goodbyes to Lydia and Danny) It takes them a week or so to clean their mess up, to track down Gerard and make sure he’s really dead. Erica and Boyd disappear for a while to do some soul searching or something but they arrive back in town after a few weeks.

And that’s it. It isn’t like he and Scott actively avoid Derek or his pack or anything; they just...never really see each other. It would seem that the circumstances that were constantly throwing them together aren't there anymore, so they don't really have much reason to talk.

They haven't seen Allison either. From what Stiles knows, she and Chris are taking part in a self-imposed exile from the hunting world. Scott's been giving her space and whenever Stiles asks about it he just gets this little knowing smile and says "When she's ready, she'll come find me."

Stiles is kind of ridiculously proud of his best friend. Scott's been trying so hard. He seems to have come to terms with the whole werewolf thing and accepts that that's what he is now. He's confided everything in his mom and they seem to be all the better for it. And when he says he’s giving Allison space, he means it. He hasn't so much as texted her in over a month. He even helps Stiles when he has to sit Lydia down and explain all things supernatural to her - Jackson had already explained most of it but he missed some stuff. And Stiles finally feels like he has his best friend back.

Stiles has been doing better too. Since he's not showing up at crime scenes every other day and lying to his dad all the time, things have gotten easier. He hasn't felt scared in a while and it's a nice change.

He and Scott are hurling good-natured, yet frustrated, abuse at each other and their video game characters when Scott stops abruptly. He drops his controller and looks like he's focusing on something very far away that Stiles can't see.

"Do you smell that?" he asks, scrambling to his feet and to the window.

"Uh no? Dude your sniffing radius goes about ten miles farther than mine does." Stiles watches his best friend for a moment. He's too still, Stiles doesn't like it.

"What's it smell like?" he ventures cautiously, rolling onto his knees to stand up.

The frown on Scott's face deepens. "Smoke."

The feeling of panic that Stiles thought he squashed two months ago starts to rise up again and he feels a bitter taste in his mouth. He edges over to the window, eyeing Scott from the corner of his eye. He's looking toward the forest.

"How far away is the Hale house?" Scott asks absently.

"...About a ten minute drive, I guess? Maybe fifteen. Why? Scott, what's wrong?" Stiles can hear the little tinge of panic in his voice and he  _hates it_.

"Get your keys," is all Scott says and then he's running for the front door. 

*

Scott's fidgety in the passenger seat and it's not helping Stiles' nerves  _at all_. It feels like they've been in the car for hours even though he knows it's only been a few minutes.

Stiles just focuses on driving in a straight line and tries to ignore Scott's agitation.

"Stiles, drive faster," Scott urges.

He lets his eyes flash to Scott for a second and sees him steadfastly staring out the window. "Why?" 

"Do you see that?"

He leans forward over the steering wheel and follows Scott's line of sight to the tree line. He knows Scott can probably see it better than he can but misting above the trees he can definitely see plumes of smoke coming from one particular spot. And Stiles'd be willing to bet all the money in the world that that particular spot is the Hale house.

With a sinking feeling of dread, he pushes down on the accelerator. It's almost a relief when they arrive on the dirt trail that leads to Derek's house.

That feeling of relief couldn't last longer than five seconds because when they arrive in the clearing in front of the Hale house, Stiles feels the world drop out from underneath him. 

The place is being swallowed by flames that are blazing higher and higher, drifting dangerously close to the trees.

Scott recovers faster than he does and throws himself out of the car. It takes Stiles a second to shock himself into doing the same. And then he's stumbling from the car to reach Scott.

"Is anyone in there?!" Stiles stares at the flames licking at the wood that's already been charred and stripped with a sick kind of horror. Who would  _do this_?

"I don't know!" Scott cries frantically. "I can't hear a heartbeat, the fire's too loud!"

"Is Derek...?” The question hangs in the air. And a part of Stiles hates himself for not knowing if Derek still lives here or found somewhere else to hide out.

The look on Scott's face says he's probably thinking the same thing. "He could be at the train depot..." he says uncertainly. “Quick, call his phone."

Stiles fishes his phone out of his pocket and scans through his contacts with trembling fingers. It takes him far too long to focus enough to find Derek's number. A distance away a phone starts ringing and Stiles sees his own feeling of alarm reflected in Scott's face. Scott breaks away from him and follows the sound. Stiles watches him crouch down and dig the phone out of the ground where it was discarded in front of the house.

Stiles hangs up and edges closer to the inferno to arrive at Scott's side. The heat emanating from the house is sweltering and makes every instinct in his body scream at him to  _move away_.

He doesn't though.  _He can't._ Because Derek might be in there. And Stiles has never put much thought into how he feels about Derek other than that he's kind of an ass and unfairly attractive but he'll be damned if he lets him die the same way his family did. It's not happening.

Scott looks at the house and then looks at him with conflict clearly playing across his features. Finally, he cracks and grabs Stiles firmly by the shoulders. "You look for him downstairs, I'll go upstairs. If you find him or you get in to trouble, yell, scream, do whatever and I'll hear you and be there to help."

"And what if you get into trouble? Who's gonna help you?" Stiles’ voice sounds strangled. He knows they're wasting time but he's already terrified of finding one body among the flames, he doesn't intend on finding his best friend too.

"I'll jump out a window or something. Are you ready?" Scott looks at him meaningfully, beseechingly and Stiles feels himself nod.

Together they push through the front door. And then Scott's vaulting up the stairs, barely touching them as he reaches the landing. Stiles looks around wildly, the smoke is already making his eyes sting and tears well up. He moves systematically from the right side of the ground floor to the left, pulling the collar of his t-shirt up over his nose and mouth. 

He's already made it through the deserted living room and kitchen and is getting increasingly worried when he catches sight of a humped figure on the floor through the kitchen door, leading to the end of the hallway.

He tries to run but the fire makes him feel tired, like it's sucking the life out of him. His movements are sluggish and the door just seems to be getting further and further away but eventually he makes it and falls to his knees next to the figure. He grips something - a shoulder, his brain supplies - and rolls the person over.

Unsurprisingly, it's Derek. He's unconscious and Stiles feels quickly for a pulse. It's barely there, a mere flutter under his fingertips. But it's there. He knows there's no time to try and wake Derek up and he has no hope of lifting him. He pulls his t-shirt down from over his mouth and yells for Scott. The action causes him to be overcome with a coughing fit and he doubles over, covering his mouth. He hears a distant thump and when he looks up with stinging eyes, he sees Scott in a crouch next to him.

Scott only pauses for a second to make sure Stiles is okay and then he's grabbing for one of Derek's arms and Stiles realises he should do the same. Together they haul Derek to his feet and half drag, half carry him through the blaze. It's not like in a movie, where a flaming beam falls down in front of them blocking their escape to add some dramatics. Stiles feels oddly detached from the whole thing, like this is happening to someone else, not them.

Why is it always them?

When they reach the outside, he gulps in grateful mouthfuls of air as they stumble down the steps to the edge of the clearing where they eventually crumble on top of each other. 

Scott pulls himself out from underneath Derek's weight, helps Stiles sit up and rolls Derek over then he moves a little ways away. After a minute or so, Stiles can vaguely hear him talking to someone on the phone, probably 911.

When Stiles gets his bearings he reaches for Derek and pulls him half onto his lap with the last ounce of strength he can muster. He tries to elevate his head because he thinks that's something you're supposed to do in these situations but he  _doesn't know._  He's saying something - at least he thinks he is - but his thought-process is so disconnected right now he doesn't even know what it is. 

It isn't until a weak hand lifts up blindly to circle Stiles' wrist where it's holding Derek's head up that he realises what he’s been saying over and over; "Derek."

Derek coughs and convulses and Stiles lets out a shuddering breath of relief, pulling him closer. But then the coughing subsides to stuttering and Derek goes limp in his arms again. The only thing that prevents Stiles from losing his mind is when the hand around his wrist tightens only slightly.

He doesn't know how much time has passed when Scott kneels down next to him and says he called 911 and Deaton and Stiles can hear the faint sound of sirens in the distance. He just holds onto Derek like if he lets go, he'll float away. He thinks Scott might be whispering things to Derek to try and get him to open his eyes or talk or something, he doesn't hear anything though. He doesn't hear anything except the roaring fire and, with one hand still resting over Derek's pulse at his neck; he pretends he can hear Derek’s heartbeat.

*

With the fire fighters comes an ambulance and his father. 

The paramedics check them all out and proclaim them to be fine, only having experienced minor smoke inhalation. Scott had pried Derek out of Stiles arms long enough to resuscitate him so he's conscious when the ambulance arrives. They want to take him to hospital though he refuses. 

The Sheriff almost has a heart attack when he sees Stiles and Scott there and Stiles thinks he's about to get chewed out big time. But the Sheriff just stares at him disbelievingly for a moment before pulling him into a bone crushing hug.

Scott and Stiles explain what happened - Derek won't talk - and Stiles' dad, thankfully, lets them leave. But not before he hugs Stiles again says, "I love you," and calls him a reckless idiot. Their conversation's not over, he knows that.

The three of them are left alone at the back of the ambulance, Derek sitting on the ledge between the open doors, looking listless.

"Deaton's waiting for us," Scott says quietly. His phone starts ringing then and Stiles notices how exceedingly exhausted his friend looks. "That'll be Isaac," he adds with a sigh. "I'm gonna have to meet with him and Boyd and Erica later to tell them what happened."

"Meet them now," Stiles says before Scott can answer the phone. "I'll take Derek to Deaton."

"You sure?" Scott asks doubtfully.

Stiles stares down at Derek. He's never seen him look so lost before; it's scaring him more than he'd like to admit. "Positive," he answers.

Scott pats him on the shoulder gratefully. "I'll call you later; maybe they'll have some idea about who did this."

Stiles nods numbly and watches as Scott hesitates but ultimately squeezes Derek's shoulder in a show of solidarity or comfort or maybe reassurance and then he wanders back through the trees with his phone to his ear.

As soon as Scott's gone, Derek stalks off to the jeep without a word. Stiles watches after him, worrying his lip between his teeth and then follows him.

*

When they get to the animal clinic Stiles doesn't go into the examination room, instead he sits in the waiting room and well, waits.

It's not long before Deaton's coming back out to talk to him. 

"Is he okay?" Stiles asks the minute Deaton steps through the door.

"Physically? He's fine. I'm more worried about his mental state honestly," he answers calmly.

And Stiles gets that. Derek lost his family to a fire in that very house. And now some sick bastard decides to try to do the same thing to him. He nods numbly and Deaton regards him with slightest raise of an eyebrow. 

"Do you want to see him?" The vet asks.

Again, Stiles nods and follows him into the back room. Derek's sitting on the couch, curled in on himself, staring at nothing. It terrifies Stiles more than it should. Like Deaton said, he's fine physically but staring into Derek's eyes, it's like he's not even there anymore. There's no light in them, no expression on his face, nothing other than the slight rise and fall of his chest to say that he's even breathing.

He's saved from saying anything when his phone starts ringing. It's Scott.

"Hey man, how's Derek?" Scott sounds about as exhausted as Stiles feels.

"Uh..." He casts his eyes over Derek's form and ducks into another room. "Not the best." he admits, lowering his voice.

He can hear Scott sigh on the other end of the line. "Understandably. The betas are freaking out but I don't think they know who did it. Isaac and Boyd are gone to find Peter, see what he knows."

Stiles nods before he remembers Scott can't see him. "Do you think...do you think maybe the Argents are behind this?" He doesn't want to ask - he really doesn't - but well, it fits.

Scott's silent for a while before he answers. "I'm really hoping they aren't but I know it's a possibility. I'm gonna stop by to talk to Chris, I'll know if he's lying."

"Right."

"Look, if you want to drop Derek off at my place, my mom's on the night shift," Scott offers.

Stiles looks over his shoulder, through the door, to where Derek sits. His throat feels tight when he replies. "No, it's fine. He can stay with me."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, my dad's gonna be out all night at the Hale house anyway."

"Okay...I'll stop by as soon as I've talked to Chris."

"Okay." Stiles hangs up and slumps against the wall, scrubbing a hand over his face. He feels the tiredness right down to his bones. 

Deaton appears in front of him, a small stack of neatly folded clothes in his outstretched hands. 

Stiles takes them confusedly. "What-"

"When Scott turned and werewolves seemed to be showing up at my doorstep beaten and bloody every other night, I asked them all to leave a change of clothes here," Deaton smiles coolly.

Never let it be said that Deaton's not a genius.

*

Stiles is surprised to see that night has fallen when they're heading back out to the jeep. What time had it been when he and Scott left the house? Five? Six? Everything about today had felt like it was happening in slow motion. Sometimes it's hard to remember the earth keeps turning even when your own world stops. Or, he supposes, in this case; Derek's world.

They drive back to Stiles' house in silence but he expects that. Once they're inside the house Stiles hands the clothes over to Derek who takes them without question. 

"You can take a shower if you want," he offers. "There's towels in the closet next to the bathroom. I can make us something to eat in the meantime?"

Derek nods wordlessly and starts up the stairs. Stiles goes to the kitchen to rifle through the fridge - they need to go grocery shopping, there's hardly any food in the house. He finds a frozen pizza and sticks it in the oven. It's not exactly a substantial meal but it'll have to do.

He can hear the water running upstairs and the quiet whir of the fan in the oven and as he looks around his empty, little kitchen, he suddenly feels overwhelmingly, incredibly alone. He wants to call Scott but knows he can't, Scott has this whole mess to clean up. He considers calling Lydia for a minute before dismissing the idea. All he really wants is a hug - which is pathetic, he knows - he should be used to all these near death experiences by now but evidently, he's not.

Instead of calling anyone, he goes upstairs, changes his clothes and decides to wait for Derek to come out of the shower.

*

Derek can't escape it.

The fire has absorbed itself into every inch of his being. It feels like the smoke has seeped into his skin, wrapped around his bones and travelled through his veins. It feels like there's ash in his hair and he can't  _get it out_. It's stifling and suffocating and he can still smell everything all too clearly. So he turns the temperature of the water up until it's stinging his skin and scrubs his skin raw, washing his hair over and over again until all he can smell is Stiles' shampoo.

He eventually turns the shower off when the water runs cold. He wraps a towel around his waist and wipes the steam from the mirror to look at himself. He'd sustained minor burns in the fire but they'd healed before the ambulance had even arrived. Now he can see the faint pink scars running over his collarbone and arm. He eyes the razor on the shelf by the sink and, feeling that same sensation of the ash clinging to his hair, he shaves. It helps minutely.

He changes into the clothes Deaton had given Stiles - sweatpants and a long-sleeved black t-shirt - and stares at his other clothes on the floor. He wants to rip them up instead he rolls them up in a ball and leaves them by the wash basket.

*

By the time Derek gets out of the shower the pizza's already cooked. So Stiles is spinning aimlessly on his computer chair, watching the slowly cooling pizza, when Derek comes into the room.

His face is carefully blank and in his bare feet with his pants just slightly too long, he looks very small - something Stiles didn't even think was possible with Derek.

"Feeling better?" Stiles asks.

Derek won't meet his eyes and he suspects he won't be talking any time soon either. Stiles sighs and picks up the plate off the desk, offering it to Derek. "Pizza?"

Derek just walks past him and perches on his bed. Stiles sighs again and forces himself to stand up, he feels bone-weary but he reminds himself it's probably nothing compared to how Derek must be feeling.

"Come on, man," he pleads. "You gotta eat something!"

Tentatively, he takes a seat on the bed next to Derek. He doesn't look at Stiles but he doesn't brush him off either and eventually he does eat half the pizza. 

It's progress...sort of.

*

It's after midnight when Stiles' dad gets home. Stiles is on his laptop because Derek's lying on his side curled up in his bed and his body language and all round vibe seems to scream "Leave me alone!" He braces himself when he hears his dad climbing the stairs; he's going to have so much explaining to do. His dad looks exhausted, the way he  _always_  looked a couple of months ago. There's lines around his eyes and across his forehead that weren't there this morning. It only serves to make Stiles feel even more guilty.

His father's eyebrows shoot up in disbelief upon seeing Derek and he looks squarely at Stiles. "Hallway. Now."

Stiles casts an anxious glance at Derek before hurrying after his dad. He makes sure to close the door behind him though he knows it's pointless - Derek can hear everything they're saying anyway.

"Explain," the sheriff demands, his arms folded across his chest. It's his bad cop routine and Stiles  _should_  find it terrifying. But maybe it's the tiredness in his father's face or maybe it's the faintest hint of worry he failed to keep out of his voice that makes tears well up in Stiles' eyes. Or maybe today has just really sucked and the thought of hurting his dad –  _again -_  is enough to break him.

The sheriff's face goes blank with surprise when he takes in his son's state. And then he pulls him into a hug, not a bone-crushing hug of relief like before, but a comforting one that allows Stiles to hold it together just a little bit longer. 

"I know you told me before you and Scott knew him, but that was months ago...Stiles, just tell me what's going on," his father pleads gently. 

And Stiles feels the painful clench of his heart because he has to do it. He has to lie to his dad again and he doesn't want to. But tonight isn't the night for confessions. Too much has happened already.

Stiles pulls away and looks his dad in the eye. "Remember that time you found me and Scott in the woods when you were searching for that dead body?"

At his father's nod he continues, "Scott dropped his inhaler and we went back to look for it the next day. Derek found it. And yeah, at the beginning we thought he was a killer but then he was cleared and we kept bumping into him. And we started to talk and...He offered to help me and Scott with lacrosse. I mean, is it really that weird? He's not that much older than us." Stiles doesn't know when he got so good at lying but he wishes he wasn't.

"He's not a bad guy, Dad; he's just had bad things happen to him," he whispers because he really doesn't want Derek to hear even though it's futile.

His dad surprises him completely by almost looking proud. "You don't forget what a person's face looks like when you have to tell them their entire family's been killed." His voice sounds gravelly and he looks at Stiles with sad eyes, squeezing his shoulder tightly. "Take care of him."

And then he's continuing down the hallway to his own bedroom. Numbly, Stiles opens the door and returns to his room. Derek's in the exact same position he was in before and there's nothing to suggest he was even listening to them.

Stiles wants to sleep but he doesn't want to disturb Derek. He considers sleeping on the floor or maybe the couch downstairs but all he really wants is to crawl into his bed and not resurface for a very long time. He decides he's too sleepy to be awkward and gently eases himself down onto the space on the bed not occupied by Derek. Since he's on his side, it gives Stiles just enough room to lie on his back even though he’s pressed right up against Derek's tensed back. He waits a minute to see if Derek will protest but when he doesn't he shoots a quick text to Scott and tells him not to bother coming over until the morning before pulling the covers up around him.

Sleep takes far too long to come and when his eyes finally do drift shut his vision is swallowed up by bright orange flames that rage behind his eyelids. He jolts awake with a gasp and looks around frantically. Derek's still on his side, his back to Stiles. Stiles doesn't even know if he's awake or not.

He forces himself to steady his breathing and tries to calm his rapidly beating heart. And then Derek's rolling over just enough so that he can grab Stiles wrist and pull his arm around him and settles back into his original position. Stiles freezes and wonders for a second if they're cuddling but then he realises that Derek's fingers are bracketing his wrist just like they did when he first woke up after the fire. So he settles into a more comfortable position and lets the gentle weight of Derek's hand around his wrist hold him in place.

* 

When Scott shows up the next morning he brings the betas with him. Stiles understands the reasoning; of course they'd be worried and if anyone has a chance of getting Derek to talk it's probably them. But he feels a sort of fierce protectiveness over Derek, like he needs to hide him away from the world until he's better.

Still, he leads Erica, Isaac and Boyd up to his room. He doesn't announce their presence because he knows Derek knows they're there. He sees the looks on their faces as they take in Derek. He's still lying in the exact same position he was in last night. He hasn't moved in hours. How can anyone exert enough control over themselves to be that still?

Isaac looks openly distressed, Erica bites her lip and looks like the shy, nervous girl she once was. Even Boyd, who's usually so steady, looks worried. Erica's the first to break the invisible barrier and sit on the bed by Derek. She gives a breathless little, "Hi," and Stiles knows she's trying not to cry. It seems to be the wake-up call Boyd and Isaac need because then they're crowding around Derek too.

And they try. God, they try so hard to act like they're not upset or scared. They talk to him and pretend it doesn't hurt when he won't look at them. Stiles can't watch them anymore. He forces himself to leave the room slowly but once he's safely in the hallway he bolts down the stairs.

He's not surprised when Scott follows him. He puts a hand on Stiles' shoulder and seeks out his gaze. When he eventually does meet his eyes, Scott frowns. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Stiles lies.

"Even if I couldn't hear your heartbeat, I'd know you were lying. I know you, Stiles." And Stiles is so glad he does.

"Everything is falling apart again," he whispers after a beat.

Scott startles but recovers quickly. "We'll fix it," he promises defiantly. "Boyd and Isaac got hold of Peter. He's coming back to Beacon Hills and we can figure out what he knows. I talked to Chris and the hunters weren't involved, or if they were, he doesn't know about it. But he promised he’d look into it. We'll find out who did this and we'll end it."

Scott sounds so sure Stiles finds himself nodding in agreement.

*

Erica, Isaac and Boyd leave looking more worried than before but also more determined. Although Isaac does come back an hour later with a backpack full of Derek's clothes.

Other than that, they're alone for the day. The Sheriff's working overtime unsurprisingly. And Scott's coordinating the supernatural side of the investigation.

Stiles spends most of the day on the floor, leaning against the bed and talking to Derek. Even if Derek doesn't talk back it serves to calm Stiles down enough to get him thinking clearly again. After a while he thinks he should maybe do some research to help Scott out but he doesn't really see how anything he could Google would help them with this. Instead, he decides to put all his efforts into helping Derek. 

First, he makes a grocery list because they really do need to go shopping. Then he takes all of Derek's clothes out of the backpack Isaac brought and folds them, setting them all on top of his chest of drawers. He also makes sure to wash the clothes Derek was wearing yesterday and leaves them downstairs by the door to remind himself to give to Scott the next time he comes over - he knows Derek probably wants to get rid of them.

When he feels a little more in control he sits down with Derek again. If he pretends things aren't completely fucked up, it's actually kind of nice.

*

Derek doesn't understand Stiles. He doesn't understand why he seems genuinely upset that Derek's hurt and that he's trying to fix it. He doesn't understand why he was even at the house in the first place or why keeps volunteering to look after Derek so Scott can take control of everything else. He doesn't understand why  _cares_.

And he does care. Last night he'd said as much.  _He's not a bad guy, Dad; he's just had bad things happen to him._ That's what he'd said and he wasn't lying. He truly believes what he told his father and Derek doesn't get it.

He knows they've come a long way from Stiles begrudgingly driving him to the animal clinic when he was shot with a wolfs bane bullet. But running into a burning building to save Derek's life? Why would he do that?

He doesn't understand Stiles. But he finds himself wanting to.

*

Derek's been at Stiles' house for three days. All he's done is shower, change his clothes and eat. Other than that he stays on Stiles' bed. Never talking, never making eye contact. Stiles knows his dad has questions and he kind of doesn't understand why he hasn't kicked Derek out yet. But every time he looks like he's going to say something, something behind his eyes changes and he sighs and just gives his son a small nod. 

Stiles only leaves the house once, to go shopping. Boyd stays with Derek. When he returns, they’re still in the same places they'd been in when he’d left. Boyd doesn't seem to mind though, that's part of the reason Stiles asked him to come over; he's handling this better than Erica and Isaac.

He's on his laptop when Scott calls. He wedges his phone between his shoulder and ear and continues organising the files Lydia translated from the bestiary. "Hey."

"You need to meet me. Right now," Scott says flatly.

"So, come over," Stiles suggests.

"I can't. And the others can't either."

That catches his attention. Stiles grabs hold of his phone and casts a furtive glance over his shoulder at Derek before ducking into the hallway. "Dude what is it? You know I can't leave Derek."

"It's about Derek," Scott presses. "I think I know who did this."

The words flick a switch in Stiles and he finds himself clutching the phone a little tighter, feels his breaths coming a little faster, feels all too aware of the wall currently separating him from Derek. "Who?" he breathes.

"I don't want to talk about this where Derek can hear. Stiles, please," Scott says, the faintest hint of urgency bleeding into his voice.

Stiles nods to himself, forces himself to believe everything will be okay while he's gone. That Derek will be okay on his own. "Okay."

*

Stiles climbs into the industrial-style elevator dubiously. The thing looks like it's seen better days and it makes a worrying screeching noise as it moves up. He doesn't even know where he is. Some apartment block that, from what he can tell, is mostly vacated. Scott picks the weirdest places to meet.

The elevator grinds to a halt and the door shudders open, leading into a wide open space. Four pairs of eyes are staring at him when he steps into the loft. Erica, Isaac and Boyd are on a faded blue couch and Scott's standing over them.

"Hi...?" They look weird, something's wrong.

Scott, at least tries to smile. "Hey."

"So...what is this place?" Stiles asks, venturing further into the room, scanning the bare walls and random bits of furniture.

"Derek's loft," Isaac answers from the couch.

"Derek has a loft?" Part of Stiles hates that he doesn't know that. Derek's been staying at his house for  _three days_  and Stiles never knew he had his own home to go back to. Stiles pushes it to the back of his mind, telling himself it doesn't matter. "So, who set the fire?" 

The betas tense, Stiles notices from the corner of his eye. Scott's expression hardens. "Alphas. A pack of them."

Stiles feels the world tilt and just for a second, his vision swims. But then Scott's talking again and he's grasping at the words to keep up.

"They've been around since the start of the summer but Derek's known about them for longer than that."

A thought dawns on Stiles and he feels anger rise up in him. He tries to quash it down and keep his voice steady but it slips out anyway. "You knew." His eyes flash to the three sitting on the couch and they all look away. "You knew this whole time and you didn't say anything."

How could they? Derek nearly  _died_. Why didn't they tell them? Why didn't  _Derek_  tell them?

"You didn't run away, did you?" The question's directed at Erica and Boyd because suddenly it all makes sense. Why Derek was biting teenagers left right and centre a few months back, why Erica and Boyd disappeared and came back quiet and subdued, why there's been radio silence from Derek and his pack for the last two months.

Erica squirms at the question and Boyd stiffens but manages a hoarse, "no".

"Why didn't he tell us?" He's almost surprised at how dangerously quiet his voice comes out. And by the look on Scott's face, he is too.

"Stiles-" he starts.

"No. He should've told us, Scott. What would keeping us in the dark accomplish? What if one of us had been attacked? What would've happened then? What if we weren't at my house the other day? What if you'd never realised something was wrong? What was he thinking?!"

"Stiles-"

"How could he be so stupid? I thought we'd gotten over this ridiculous holding back information crap-"

"Stiles!" Scott never raises his voice at Stiles. Ever. It's enough to shut him up for a second. "He wanted us to have a nice summer," he mumbles quietly.

"What?" Stiles blinks. Surely, he didn't just hear Scott correctly?

Scott sighs and throws his hands up in the air. "He didn't want us to know because he wanted our lives to stress-free for a while."

"That's bullshit and you know it." It shocks him how cold his voice is. It seems to surprise Scott too, he gently grabs hold of Stiles' elbow and leads him out to the loft's little balcony. It's pointless because there's no privacy around werewolves but some detached part of Stiles' brain that isn't reeling appreciates the effort. "Why aren't you more angry?" he questions when they're outside. "You're not exactly number one in Derek's fan club."

Scott scuffs his shoe on the ground and stares down. "I was," he mutters after a minute. "I was furious. But then Isaac said Derek understood."

"Understood what?"

Scott goes very quiet. And for a second, Stiles sees his best friend as twelve-years-old, skinny and clumsy, confessing that his dad has left. It makes Stiles want to put his arms around him. "He understood that I haven't had five minutes to process everything since being bitten. And that lying to your dad every day was  _killing you_. And that our friendship was hanging on by a thread-"

That makes Stiles flinch. He'd been feeling isolated but with everything that had been going on he didn't think Scott had noticed, or Derek for that matter.

"And you're the one who made me realise the reason I resented Derek was because he represented this life I never wanted, never asked for," Scott presses on. "He took the thing I saw as a curse and tried to tell me it was a gift. But  _you_  made me see it wasn't fair to blame him for things Peter ultimately did. For things he had no control over."

He remembers that talk. He and Scott had stayed up for hours one night talking.  _Really talking_  about all the werewolf shit that happened in the last year. They talked ‘til their voices were hoarse and their chests felt a little lighter.

Stiles understands - appreciates, even - what Derek was trying to do. But it doesn't change the fact that he got hurt and it could've been prevented if they'd known. They could've done something. Anything. "He still should've told us," he mumbles.

"I know," Scott sighs.

"So, what do we do now?"

Scott starts ticking of the list on his fingers. "Talk to Peter, see what he knows. Talk to Deaton, see what he knows. Ask Erica and Boyd about everything they learned when they were with the Alphas - though I think Derek's already done that."

"Okay, what d'you need me to do?" Stiles forces the anger and fear down and tries to focus. He has something to research now. He can help. 

"If you want, I can get one of the others to stay with Derek and you can meet with Deaton?" Scott offers.

He doesn't mean to, but he falters. He wants to be actively doing something but he also doesn't like being away from Derek. Three days and he already has separation anxiety. Because that's not pathetic at all. "No. It's okay. I'll research at home today, maybe get Lydia to help.”

Scott nods all too knowingly and smiles tiredly - every time he sees his best friend lately everything he does is tiredly. It's like the life is being sucked out of him and it's all too familiar and terrifying for Stiles. "Sure."

"But I can talk to Deaton tomorrow!" he jumps in quickly. He feels guilty for moping around the house with Derek while Scott's been trying to figure everything out on his own.

Scott smiles again - genuinely and gratefully - and pats Stiles' shoulder affectionately. "Thanks."

*

When Stiles gets home he rushes straight to his room. He's only been gone for just over an hour but there's still a clawing feeling tugging at his chest until he reaches his room and sees that Derek's still okay. He is.

...And then the anger rages inside him again. He tastes it on his tongue, feels it in every nerve. Because he still doesn't understand why Derek kept it from them.

"Why'd you lie to us?" His voice is dangerously quiet even if he doesn't mean for it to be. Derek stays silent as ever, doesn't even acknowledge Stiles. And that, more than anything, pisses him off.

"No. Okay, no. You don't get to lie there and shut down while the rest of us try to sort this mess out.  _You lied to us, Derek_. You let me and Scott think everything was fine and that we didn't need to worry anymore because the threat was gone. But that was never true, was it?"

He laughs once without humour and shakes his head. "God, why can't you just admit when you need help? We're here Derek. We  _want_  to help. Because this shit affects us too! You don't get to angst about the fact that you're all alone and then push us away and keep us in the dark so we  _can't_  be there!" The anger takes it out of him and leaves his eyes burning.

Derek stays remarkably still except for his hand tightening on the comforter. Maybe Stiles would've missed it if he wasn't paying close attention, but he was.

He’s drawn to the bed like he has some weird compulsion to be near Derek. Stiles kneels down at the head of the bed and looks at Derek,  _really looks at him_ , and he feels his anger slip away, dissipate into nothingness only to be replaced by a heartache that overwhelms him.

There's a tear, just one, sliding down Derek's cheek and his eyes are shining. He knows it means a lot; that one little traitorous tear Derek's probably cursing right now but is afraid to draw attention to. Stiles wonders when was the last time someone saw Derek like this. He wonders when was the last time Derek cried at all. Slowly, he lifts a hand and with a feather-light touch swipes the tear with his thumb. And for the first time in days, Derek's eyes flick to his. 

It's the catalyst. Like every wall Derek has so carefully constructed the last six years cracks and he crumbles. Stiles can't take it. He can't see Derek like this, so he pushes his way onto the bed. Derek manages to hold back his sob until Stiles has his arms securely around him and then he breaks. There's nothing more terrifying than seeing the strongest person you know fall apart and Stiles has to fight to keep it together.

He's shaking and clinging to Stiles and every so often a bout of self-loathing comes around and he shoves and tries to push him away but Stiles just holds on tighter. He knows without him having to say it that this is the first time Derek has cried in nearly seven years. And Stiles can feel it. He can feel all the pain and anger and guilt just pour out of Derek. For his family and Laura and Peter and Kate. And Stiles hopes he cries for himself too, just this once.

They stay like that for hours until Derek's tears run dry and he can't possibly cry any longer. That's the moment where he truly collapses against Stiles. Where the fight goes out of him and he goes pliant in his arms.

Stiles doesn't know which one of them drifts off first. All he knows is that the light of the moon shining through the slit in the drapes makes the tear tracks on Derek's face look silver. And that Derek's heart beats approximately 73 times per minute because he's been counting for hours.

Eventually though, he does sleep, with Derek tucked under his arm. It should be weird because Derek's so much bigger than him - though not much taller - but it's not, it's actually strangely comforting.

His eyes flutter open around dawn and he slips back into consciousness to Derek trying to ease out from under his arm. Immediately Stiles knows what he's trying to do; he's trying to run away. So he clamps his arm around Derek, refusing to let him move. "Don't even think about it."

Derek freezes in his arms. Stiles doesn't have his eyes open but he can feel him staring. "Don't leave because you were vulnerable last night and finally let yourself be upset." He doesn't know if it has the desired effect because his voice is rough with sleep and he still can't open his eyes against the harsh morning light. "Stay. Because I'm not going anywhere."

Stiles finally cracks his eyes open and they stare straight into a pool of green and blue and hazel. Derek's looking at him with this mixture of confusion and hope and then, he says, "Okay."

And Stiles tries not to betray the way his heart skips a beat at hearing Derek's voice again, hoarse from crying and not talking but still utterly recognisable.

*

Stiles gets Derek to talk. Slowly but surely. They stay in bed all day with the covers pulled over their heads while Derek whispers the truths he's been too afraid to say out loud for years. Stiles figures his dad left for work while they were asleep, Scott doesn't call; no one calls. It's like they've been given a temporary respite.

Derek trips over his words as he tells Stiles the things he already sort of assumed - about his and Kate's relationship mostly - and Stiles holds his hand whenever his throat catches.

It's feels safe under the covers with their heads bent close. The rest of the world slips away, leaving only them and their quiet words. Stiles thinks Derek likes the dark because even though this is obviously impossibly hard for him, he also seems the most at peace he's been for days. 

When he starts talking about the fire Stiles feels his heart speed up.

"It was so loud...And confusing and hazy and I couldn't breathe. And then suddenly, everything just...stopped. The world slowed down and I fell but there was no pain. I closed my eyes and it didn't hurt that much anymore...And everything went quiet and it was nice, peaceful almost. I wasn't scared. I wasn't scared until I heard your heartbeat."

Stiles swallows, waiting for Derek to continue. 

"I remember thinking you were such an idiot for showing up. You could've gotten hurt. So I knew I had to open my eyes." He says it so quietly and keeps his eyes downcast as he does, though it's not easy to avoid one another's gazes when they're this close.

"And then I heard Scott too and I  _knew_  I had to wake up. You two were bound to get us all killed." Stiles laughs softly, grateful for the little hint of amusement that's returning to Derek's voice.

"We saved your ass, didn't we?" Stiles remarks and he swears Derek almost smiles.

"You did...Thanks by the way."

It goes without saying that that, "thanks," stands for a lot more than just that.

*

Eventually he leaves, not because he wants to, but because he promised Scott he'd talked to Deaton and Derek's told him everything he knows about the alphas which is a huge help, even if he doesn't know much.

Derek watches from the bed as he ambles around the room, grabbing his phone and keys and whatever else he needs. It feels oddly intimate. Stiles is at the door, ready to leave, when he pauses. "Please don't leave while I'm gone." He goes before he can hear Derek's reply.

He texts Lydia and asks her to meet him at the animal clinic and when they get there Scott, Peter, Isaac, Erica and Boyd are there too. Firstly, Deaton gets them to relay all the information they've already acquired. Stiles admits that Derek's talking again and once the others get over their initial shock or relief he tells them everything Derek said.

Erica and Boyd, though looking uncomfortable, reveal everything they remember of their abduction. After some glaring on Scott's part, Peter rolls his eyes and provides what knowledge he has. Lydia stays as far away from him as possible and he politely ignores her. She takes notes meticulously the entire time and when Deaton starts pulling books out of the cupboard underneath the sink they spend what feels like forever poring through old texts that are barely legible.

Stiles likes it though. He's able to research somewhat numbly; he can pretend he's doing this out of morbid curiosity not because it's happening to him. It's a difficult task but it grounds him. 

It's almost four hours later when Deaton suggests they call it a night. Peter disappears immediately and the betas soon follow, muttering something about needing to get to the loft.

"They're fixing the place up," Scott explains. "For when Derek goes home."

Home. Derek will be going home soon. He's not shutting himself out anymore. He doesn't need Stiles. The thought makes him oddly bitter.

“What about you?” Stiles asks Scott, who stifles his yawn with a sheepish smile.

“I was, uh, gonna catch up on some sleep. But we can do something if you want?”

Stiles rolls his eyes and claps his best friend on the shoulders, guiding him out into the parking lot. “Go. Regulate your sleeping patterns. We’ll talk in the morning.”

Scott nods, says his goodnight and heads for his car. Lydia falls into step with Stiles as he makes his way to his Jeep.

“You’re giving me a ride home,” she informs him. She’s carrying about six of the books Deaton had and she wordlessly shoves three of them into his arms. For a minute he considers the irony of escorting Lydia and carrying her books for her. He snorts and she appraises him with a raised eyebrow.

Once they’re in the car, she takes the books back into her arms and sets them on her lap. She waits until he’s pulled out of the parking lot before she turns to him. “Okay. Spill.”

“I’m sorry?”

“What’s the deal with you and Derek?” she asks bluntly.

It takes all his self-control not to crash the jeep into a tree. “What? Nothing. He got hurt and now he’s staying at my house.”

She watches him carefully and nods to herself. “You like him.” she concludes.

“No I don’t,” he answers flatly.

“You say his name differently now.” She smiles a faraway kind of smile and he wonders if she’s thinking of Jackson. He wonders how she’s really doing. She looks fine but Lydia’s a master at creating a mask.

“...How are you?” he asks earnestly.

Lydia blinks in surprise and for a second he thinks she’s going to make some snappy retort but then she sighs. “I’m coping,” she answers honestly and he nods in understanding, slipping one hand off the steering wheel to cover hers briefly.

“But don’t change the subject!” Lydia snaps suddenly. “You like him, Stiles.”

“It’s only been a couple of days,” he protests weakly.

“People have liked each other because of less,” she points out. “Look, I’m not saying you’re in love with him or anything but you’ve got that look about you.”

“What look?”

“That look that says you  _could_  fall in love with him some day.” The gentleness in her voice makes his throat close up. For one thing, it’s rare to ever hear her speak like this. For another, he understands what she’s saying and...He believes her.

Because he’s noticed too.

Before Tuesday he hardly gave Derek a second thought, except for the rare times he’d find himself wondering if he was okay, but now he’s all Stiles thinks about. And it’s more than worry or being a decent human being or any of that. He cares about Derek; he cares about being the one  _to_  care for Derek.

When he pulls up in front of her house Lydia turns to him and looks at him seriously. “I know you’re worried sick right now and your love life isn’t high on your list of priorities but liking him wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. Remember that,” she says softly. “I’ll stop by tomorrow and we can start writing up stuff about the alphas.”

And with that, she’s gone, leaving Stiles to drive home in faint astonishment. Objectively he knew he was starting to like Derek but Lydia’s spelled it out plain and simple and now that it’s staring him straight in the face, he can’t ignore it.

 

*

Derek’s asleep when he gets home and he’s glad because Stiles may or may not be having a mental breakdown right now. His dad gets in the door a few minutes after he does and he feels the same swirls of guilt knot his stomach. He’s hardly seen him all week and he’s lying again. He doesn’t like it.

The sheriff drops into a seat at the dining table across from him and yawns a, “Hi”. He rubs at his eyes and then regards Stiles warily like he’s afraid to say whatever he’s about to say. “Stiles, when’s Derek going home?”

“Soon,” he assures his father – even if the selfish part of him doesn’t  _want_  Derek to leave. “A day or two probably. He’s starting to feel better, he talked to me today.” He feels like a little kid seeking his dad’s approval.

The sheriff nods and tries to smile. He can’t. “Stiles, you know I don’t mind him staying but I know you’re lying to me. I know there’s more to this that you’re not telling me. Kid, whatever it is, we’ll figure it out, just...just tell me.  _Please_.”

Stiles digs his fingers into his thigh and bites the inside of his cheek, imploring himself not to cry.  He can’t lie anymore because he can’t have his father look at him like this anymore. He can’t. His voice is shaky when he starts speaking but he manages to steady it somewhat. “I’ll tell you. I promise I’ll tell you but can we just wait till Derek’s gone? After that I swear I’ll explain everything.”

His dad doesn’t look happy but he accepts it. “Okay, Stiles.” He gets up from the table then, patting Stiles’ shoulder as he passes. “I’m ordering take-out and don’t try to stop me!” he calls as he walks into the kitchen and Stiles huffs a laugh, thankful the topic is dropped for now.

“Wasn’t gonna.”

The Sheriff returns a few minutes later with the phone in one hand and a menu for the Chinese place next to the Dry-Cleaners in the other. “So what does Derek like?”

“Sweet and Sour chicken,” he answers automatically. It surprises him that he knows that. Why  _does_  he know that? He can’t remember if or when Derek told him but he knows he’s right.

The Sheriff doesn’t seem to find it odd though. He merely nods and dials the number.

*

Stiles wakes Derek just before the food arrives and he agrees to come downstairs with him. They sit around the dining table with the Sheriff and at first it’s awkward. They’re all completely silent but then his dad clears his throat and asks how Derek’s feeling.

Derek starts and drops his fork, “Uh better. Thanks.”

The Sheriff nods, “You know you’re gonna have to come down to the station soon, son. We already have Scott and Stiles’ statements but we need to talk to you too.”

Derek’s paralysed and Stiles knows why. The sheriff called him “son”, it’s probably the first time any authority figure or well, adult in general, has shown Derek any form of compassion in over a year at least. Stiles can tell he doesn’t know how to react.

“We can head down tomorrow,” Stiles jumps in and Derek snaps himself out of it, nodding. “Yeah, we will.”

The Sheriff nods looking relieved. “Good.”

Derek shoots Stiles a grateful look. Dinner runs smoother after that. Or, Stiles supposes it’s not really dinner since it’s 11 o’clock at night but still. Somehow they get on to the topic of Derek’s childhood, and subsequently Stiles’. At first he’s worried Derek won’t react well but he actually seems relaxed. It turns out Stiles’ dad knew Derek’s parents, only as well as everyone knows everyone in small towns but it seems to bring Derek comfort. It’s also the first time Stiles hears his dad talk about his mom without getting a painful tightening feeling in his heart.

It’s nice.

*

The next few days pass far too quickly. People are in and out of Stiles’ room every five minutes. Lydia’s there for hours on Saturday helping him organise everything they know about the Alphas. Derek actually goes out that day; Erica, Isaac and Boyd take him to Boyd’s house for lunch after he goes to the station to give his official statement. It’s a huge deal, Stiles knows, and he’s proud of Derek. Allowing himself to break down the other night really seems to have helped him. He’s almost back to being the grouchy old alpha that’s been a constant in their lives for almost a year.

On Sunday, Derek says he’ll go home the next day and though Stiles was expecting it, he still kind of wants him to stay. They hang out on their own that day, watching crappy movies that Stiles secretly loves and it’s so startlingly normal it’s almost weird. Derek must sense it too because Stiles can feel his eyes on him every few minutes.

When they’re in bed that night – and yes, Stiles is aware of how odd that sounds – Derek whispers to him just as he’s on the brink of sleep.

“Thanks.”

“Hmm?” Stiles mumbles but can’t even find the energy to open his eyes.

“For everything, I mean.”

At that, Stiles does open his eyes. It takes a second for them to adjust in the dark and when they do he can just make out the outline of Derek’s features. He nods because he doesn’t know what else to say. His mouth feels dry and he doesn’t know whether it’s gravity or what that’s making him lean into Derek but their faces are suddenly a lot closer than they were a second ago. Derek shuffles a bit but doesn’t move away and then Stiles feels his fingers circling his wrist. They fall asleep like that with their foreheads barely touching.

*

The next day is weird. They’re oddly formal with each other all morning and it’s driving Stiles insane. Why is it so much easier at night time? Why does he always have to wait until it’s dark for all the walls to come down? He thinks about what Lydia said a few days ago. How liking Derek wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world...

Stiles watches him from his desk; he’s dressed normally again – in jeans, a t-shirt and his leather jacket – and he’s picking up all his stuff that’s strewn around the room, putting it back into the backpack Isaac brought over at the beginning of the week.

Stiles can feel the seconds ticking away. His window of opportunity is closing. If he wants to say something to Derek about how he feels or how confused or  _anything_  while they’re still in their secluded little bubble, he needs to do it now.

He rises from the chair and stands in Derek’s way, blocking his path to a t-shirt he was about to reach for. Derek looks at him strangely and tries to step around him but Stiles moves again.

“Stiles, what’s-“ He cuts off abruptly and Stiles doesn’t know why. But he’s looking at Stiles kind of like he’s just seeing him for the first time. He’s staring into his eyes in a way that feels unbelievably intimate and close. They’re close...so close...

Derek’s lips graze his so lightly Stiles almost thinks he’s imagining it. And then they return, slightly more forceful but still startlingly gentle and Stiles melts against him, sighing into his mouth. Part of him would’ve thought they’d be more rushed, clutching each other frantically, falling onto the bed etc. etc. But this –  _this_  – is so unbelievably above and beyond anything his brain could’ve conjured up. He’s tingling all over and Derek’s fingers leave little ribbons of heat in their wake as they skate over Stiles’ sides, cheeks, jaw, everywhere. It feels like every goddamn positive adjective in existence – seriously Stiles needs a thesaurus before he can try to describe this kiss. Really, the only thing he can possibly say is that it feels right.

More right than anything else has ever felt.

Derek pulls away just enough that their eyes don’t go out of focus looking at each other and he smiles. An absolutely heart-melting, divine smile that Stiles wants to kiss. When he tries to do just that, Derek huffs a laugh and murmurs against his lips, “The others are waiting outside.” And he pulls away again.

Stiles immediately begins to protest. “But-“

Derek picks his backpack up off the bed and slings it over his shoulder before leaning back in and pressing a quick kiss to Stiles’ lips. He’s smiling again when he moves away. “Bye.”

*

The next few days are agonising. Because he doesn’t see Derek – though he does hear from Scott who heard from Isaac that Derek loved what they did to the loft. In other words, his eyes widened for a fraction of a second and he said a gruff, “thank you”. Scott comes over the night Derek leaves and they tell the Sheriff the big hairy truth.

He groans and buries his head in his hands, moaning, “That makes sense.  _Why does that make sense?”_  Once they’ve provided every pain-staking detail of the last year, they leave him alone with a six pack of beer and retreat to Stiles room.

Stiles flops down on his bed, exhausted, and Scott immediately crashes down next to him. “So, that went better than expected,” he announces cheerfully.

Stiles makes a noise in agreement. If he’s being honest, he’s a little distracted because his bed still smells like Derek and he just realised Derek left a t-shirt here; the one he’d been going to grab when they-

“I kissed Derek!” Stiles blurts out before he can think better of it. Scott sits up so fast Stiles wonders if he’s dizzy. His eyes widen comically and he stares down at Stiles in disbelief.

“ _Dude_ ,” he all but yells.

“What?”

“ _Why_  would you tell me that?” You’d swear Scott had walked in on them or something with the way he’s making a pained face.

“Because I don’t know what it means and I need help,” Stiles laments, covering his face with his pillow melodramatically.

“Uh okay. Um...” Stiles peaks out from behind the pillow and stifles a laugh. Scott’s thinking face is his favourite.

Eventually Scott huffs and flops back down the bed. “Dude, I got nothing.”

“I helped you with Allison,” Stiles reminds.

“Yeah but...this is Derek. He doesn’t think like a normal human being.”

Stiles rolls his eyes but Scott’s continuing anyway. “You’re gonna have to make the first move,” he decides.

“What? Why?  _He_  kissed  _me,_  not the other way around,” Stiles protests.

“I thought you said you kissed him?”

“So it was more of a mutual thing. Whatever.”

Scott looks at him meaningfully. “Look, Derek’s not good at the feelings stuff. You’re gonna have to be the brave one and lay your feelings on the line.”

“And if he doesn’t want to be with me?” Stiles mutters, playing with the frayed edge of his pillow.

Scott bumps his shoulder supportively. “We’ll cross that bridge if we come to it. But if he kissed you, I don’t really see why he wouldn’t.”

Stiles loves Scott. He really does.

*

But now, Stiles has gone three days without so much as sending a stupid text to Derek and he’s slowly going insane. When he wakes up on Friday he decides today is the day. He still doesn’t work up the nerve to head over to the loft until about 10 o’clock that night after a lecture from Lydia  _and_  Scott.

When he does arrive at the loft he’s momentarily stalled by staring at the place. It’s been completely transformed. The walls are painted now and there’s more furniture making itself comfortable among the old furniture. Stiles spies pictures on the desk that Isaac no doubt placed there.

He hears a soft laugh and sees Isaac lounging the couch; he hadn’t noticed him before. “The place looks good, doesn’t it?”

Stiles nods, feeling his face relax into a smile. “Yeah it does.”

Isaac smirks; seeming to take in the way Stiles is now restlessly scanning the room to see if Derek’s lurking in a corner. Then he rolls his eyes and gestures to the stairs. “Up there.”

He nods gratefully and tries to walk up the stairs like a normal human being. It doesn’t work; he takes them two at a time. When he gets to the top there’s a heavy metal door held open by a cinder block. Taking a deep breath, he pushes the door open fully.

He finds Derek on the roof. He's lying down with one arm pillowed underneath his head. After a moment's hesitation, he lies down next to him.

Derek doesn't turn to look at him; he just continues staring at the sky. Stiles does the same after a second, the sky is clear tonight; no clouds and it looks like there's more stars than usual.

"Hi." He says quietly.

Derek's reply is just as soft, "Hi."

Stiles wants to take Scott's advice and be the one to take the leap here – he needs to. He needs to ask what they are or what they could be or say how he feels or ask Derek how he feels - but he already used up all his nerve to climb the stairs in the first place and he feels oddly relaxed, lying here with Derek on the cold concrete, watching the sky like it's a movie. It's calm.

Why spoil it?

He's almost starting to drift off in a daydream when he feels a flutter at his wrist and then Derek's hand is sliding into his and their fingers fold together. He rolls his head to the side, a question on his lips. It dies in his throat when he sees Derek watching him.

Slowly he feels a smile spread across his face and he gives Derek's hand the most imperceptible squeeze.

And Derek smiles back.

It’s a Friday.

And everything’s normal until it’s not.

It’s perfect.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I just realised they only kissed once in this whole fic lol you must hate me XD  
> Thing is though, I didn't want it to be a huge love story. I wanted it to be the *beginning* of their love story. Like Lydia says, they have that look that says they *could* fall in love and that's how I wanted it to end - at their beginning. Anyway, hope you liked it!  
> As always characters are not mine and you can find me on tumblr at [ allyasavedtheday](http://allyasavedtheday.tumblr.com/) :)


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